


An Unexpected Complication

by imaginary_golux



Series: October Ficlet Challenge [5]
Category: Cadfael Chronicles - Ellis Peters
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Crack, Crossdressing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: Prompt 3: Accidental marriageYves has a cunning plan to get Olivier out of captivity. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately - there's the minor complication of the small army of pursuers and the nearsighted priest. Oops?Prompt and beta by my Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.





	An Unexpected Complication

Yves pulls the door to the cell open, and Olivier seizes him in a brief, tight embrace. “Come quickly,” Yves whispers. “We have little time - there is a room nearby, I have hidden a disguise for you.” Olivier nods and follows Yves down the corridor, both of them listening intently for any sound, until they can slip into the tiny chamber - no more than a closet, really - that Yves prepared earlier.

Olivier eyes the garments Yves brought for him dubiously. Yves flushes pink. “I could not conceive of any other disguise that might suffice,” he says ruefully. “They will be looking for the bold warrior -”

“And not the maiden,” Olivier agrees, and strips out of his filthy tunic and breeches without further delay. Yves _did_ think to bring a skin of water and some rags, so that Olivier can wipe the dirt of the dungeon from himself before he dons the clothing Yves brought; that is something, at least.

And of the two of them, Yves must admit, Olivier makes the more convincing woman. He is still smooth-cheeked as any maiden, where Yves’ beard has come in thick and full, and though Olivier is strong, he is slender, all lean muscle and elegance. Yves always feels clumsy around his older friend, too broad and inelegant compared to Olivier’s sleek grace.

Olivier in a chemise and kirtle, with a cap over his short hair, is not noticeably _less_ elegant than he is in his usual tunic and hose. Yves swallows hard. Olivier looks down at himself for a moment, then shrugs. “I do not make such a fair maiden, I fear,” he says.

“Fair enough,” Yves says without thinking, then gulps as Olivier gives him an odd look. “I am sure it will suffice as a disguise,” Yves adds hastily. “Shall we go?”

“Lead on, my gallant,” Olivier says, taking Yves’ arm. Yves can feel himself blushing again.

They make it out of the keep and well into the city before there is a sudden hue and cry behind them. “Ah,” Olivier says. “I believe they have noticed my escape.”

Yves bites back an oath. “I was hoping we would have a little more time,” he admits, as the shouting grows louder behind them. Running would be too obvious - they dare not move any faster than a swift walk. Yves scans the streets around them, praying for something that might hide them, and then they round a corner and there - praise God! - stands a church. Olivier clearly has the same thought; they hasten towards it together, slipping in through the half-open door and flinging themselves down before the altar.

Upon which, of course, a priest emerges from behind the altar and blinks amiably down at them, squinting as though he cannot see much past the end of his nose. Yves takes a deep breath. Lying to a priest is a sin, of course, but - well, for Olivier he would blacken his soul ten times over. He’s not sure what lie he is going to tell, though, and the priest speaks before either of them can devise some clever tale.

“Young lovers, hiding?” the priest asks, smiling broadly. “I see you have heard my reputation, then.” He glances up at a shout from the street and shakes his head. “Your fathers must be _very_ wroth with you.”

Yves seizes upon the lie desperately. “Yes,” he says, trying to sound lovesick and hopeful. It’s not that hard. “I and - and Olivia beg you to help us, Father.” He’s hoping the priest will agree to conceal them, or show them a way out of the city - surely that is what the priest meant -

Which is why, despite everything, Yves is rather startled to find himself swearing fidelity and devotion to an equally startled Olivier, who keeps his head well enough to return the oaths in a husky whisper which will hopefully disguise his voice enough to keep the priest from noticing.

“Then you are wed!” the priest declares happily. “Come now, I will let you out through the side door, and you may avoid the search parties a little longer -” he chunners on cheerfully as Yves and Olivier, hand in hand and blinking at each other in astonishment, follow him behind the altar and through a small door into what must be the priest’s own chambers, and thence out onto a narrow street far from the commotion at the keep.

“Fare you well!” the priest says joyfully. “God’s blessing on you both, my children!” And closes the door behind them.

They do not have much time to speak until after they have successfully made it out of the city, finding the horses still where Yves left them, and found shelter for the night in a copse of trees some hours’ ride from the keep. Olivier is ominously silent as they care for the horses and build a small lean-to for shelter, as he changes into Yves’ spare tunic and breeches - rather too broad on him, and Yves has to suppress a very odd feeling that rises in his chest on seeing Olivier in _his_ clothes - and as they make a cold meal of dried meat and brown bread.

Finally, once they are settled in the lean-to on a makeshift bed of grass covered with the kirtle - it is good thick wool, soft enough to make a good bed - Olivier says, quietly, “I do not think that was entirely as you planned it, my gallant.”

“No,” Yves admits sheepishly. “The - ah - the good Father was rather unexpected.”

“His eyes may not have been keen, but God’s are,” Olivier says slowly, as though thinking through each word before he speaks. “And it was before God that I swore you my devotion.”

Yves’ mouth goes dry. “And I you,” he says faintly, not quite daring to believe that he is hearing correctly.

“And as God has not struck us down for blasphemy,” Olivier continues - and Yves can hear the smile in his voice - “I do not think He disapproves too terribly. And so, Yves, my gallant, I have but two regrets.”

“What are they?” Yves asks.

“The first is that we shall never be able to tell anyone of this,” Olivier says wryly. “Not only would they not believe us, they would not approve.”

“That is very true,” Yves admits. “And the second?”

“The second,” says Olivier slowly, “is that my husband has not kissed me yet.”

Yves has one breathless moment of pure, astonished shock, and then he turns towards Olivier and Olivier turns towards him and their lips meet in a kiss that, Yves thinks vaguely as he wraps his arms around Olivier’s shoulders, ought by rights to shake the very world.

**Author's Note:**

> So Best Beloved and I are doing an October ficlet challenge. We each generated a list of pairings we'd be willing to write and a list of prompts we wanted the other person to write, and then traded prompts lists without knowing what the other person's pairing lists were. We'll be doing a ficlet each every day in October. Should be fun!
> 
> I am, as ever, imaginarygolux on tumblr.


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